


End of December

by doggonefunny



Category: American Psycho - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-03-08 08:33:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3202616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doggonefunny/pseuds/doggonefunny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Why not end up with her?"</p><p>Patrick tries to keep the monster inside while he furthers his relationship with Jean. Though as their wedding day approaches, he's finding it exceedingly difficult to keep his demons at bay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	End of December

**Author's Note:**

> NOT FOR THE FAINT OF HEART. I am STRONGLY taking from Ellis' writing style-- it's jumpy, it's grotesque, and it's certainly NSFW at all. PLEASE keep this in mind before and while reading. Thank you.

There’s a heavy, melancholy aching in my chest that constricts and shrouds me in an impregnable claustrophobia.

The Patty Winter’s Show is playing in the background but it’s a re-run about some fourteen year old girl that whores around because she thinks she’s pretty but she’s the ugliest fucking child I’ve ever seen in my life and I’m preoccupied anyway because there’s a BLONDE with her head in my lap sucking my cock like she’s not eaten in weeks. I’m upset because she isn’t blonde. Her hair is a tan in hue and it reminds me of aged white leather and it depresses me, though not enough to go limp as I’m actually painfully hard and her hot mouth feels great. I’m only hard because I know how this ends. I know her blood is going to soak my bed, and I know her screaming isn’t going to be heard because nobody gives a fuck in this building. She’s moaning around my cock as though it’s bringing her pleasure, but she’s a prostitute and it’s part of her job description — I think her name is January, or February, or some other month and it actually boils my blood because that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard in my life. 

I reach over towards the coffee table knowing that if I arch my hips I can get her to choke or gag and when I finally grab the remote and she does indeed gag on my dick, I lean back to flick the VCR on. I decide that gagging noise was nice, however, and even though it pisses me off to see her tan hair as she bobs her head, I lean back and eye the porn that’s now playing on my television. After watching a blonde with huge tits get fucked hard on my television, I reach a hand down to grip March’s ugly hair and grind my hips up against her face. The constriction of her throat makes me groan, and her struggling to try and catch a breath makes my cock twitch which in turn makes her whimper and gag once more. I give her a few shallow thrusts and think she should be fucking grateful for being here in my apartment, on my insanely expensive sofa from B&B Italia (shipped in from Europe), gagging on my dick. She should be goddamn grateful I didn’t decapitate her the moment we walked into my apartment. Grateful that I decided she should blow me instead of having me sew her lips shut because she wouldn’t shut her fucking mouth. Talk, talk, talk talk talk talk talk TALK. I hate chatty bitches. 

Her arms are flailing a bit now as she struggles to pull off me and I think it’s probably best I don’t let this go too long or else she’s going to bite my dick off. Releasing her hair, April jumps up and gasps for air and she’s glaring at me through teary eyes but I simply give her a gentle apology and tell her that her mouth just felt so fucking good and she’s the best I’ve ever had. The stupid bitch believes me. Reaching down to hike up her dress a bit, I pull aside her panties to slip a finger inside her. Her cunt is a bit dry but I can fix that later. For now I work her up until she’s calm again and moaning unnecessarily loud. Normally I don’t like it when they put on a dramatic show but my erection is standing straight up because of the noises and I masturbate with my free hand. Soon I’ve got three fingers inside her, stretching her and prepping her so she can take my cock more easily. I was upset before about her vagina being dry, but now that I’m thinking more about it the friction will feel great and if I need lubricant later then I can just use her blood. She’s starting to get wet now, obviously enjoying what I’m doing, and a thin sheen of juices coats her thighs and makes her shaved cunt glisten. Slipping out of her, I bring my hand up, pushing my fingers in her mouth so she can suck them and when she’s finished I shift, grabbing her by the throat and twisting my body in order to slam her down on the coffee table. May shouts, struggles and slaps at my chest and stomach but my hands around her throat are tight and if I were to apply any more pressure I would probably feel her trachea crack under the force. The thought makes my cock twitch and I decide to keep her alive for now, forcing myself into her and snapping my hips roughly against her. 

Fucking her isn’t enough and I’m still pissed off every time I see her stupid tan hair so I move one of my hands off June’s throat to fist in her hair and tug until there are chunks of BLONDE in my fingers. She screams and I lean down to bite at her mouth, growling in frustration when our teeth clack against one another but I find her lips regardless and I tear at them with feral abandon. When I pull away her bottom lip is torn and raw and blood runs off her chin and down her neck and I find myself dipping lower to lav my tongue along the crimson fluid. I fuck her harder because of the coppery taste on my tongue but it’s still not enough and I decide that we need to move. Pulling her up and forcing her legs around my waist I stumble towards the bedroom— July is in shock still because she’s missing a decent amount of her bottom lip now so I have a limited amount of time before the adrenaline wears off and she begins losing her mind again. I grab a steak knife off the kitchen island on the way past to the bedroom. I throw her on the bed, hands and knees, and point the knife towards her and her mascara smudged eyes are staring at me like a fucking doe deer and it makes the feral animal inside me roll and want to use my teeth and nails on her instead of this knife. Maybe I will. The knife is for show anyway, to keep her put. 

I walk around the room, catching myself in my wall to wall mirror every few seconds and I’m fascinated with how good I look. My stomach is toned and my tan is fresh and natural and not fucking orange like yuppie cunts up state like to appear. My hair is messy and I run a hand through it but the bangs fall in my face again and instead of getting angry I think it gives me a handsome school boy appearance and I’m content with it for now. I masturbate for a minute, watching myself jerk off in the mirror, and it almost makes me come but I keep myself in check. Now is not the time to come when I’ve got a BLONDE on the bed waiting for me to play God. 

Grabbing the rope from my closet I point the knife at her again, telling her not to fucking move and if she does then she’s dead, but I think she already knows she’s dead anyway. I tie her wrists above her head and her ankles to either bed post so they’re spread wide and I have better access to play with her pussy lips, which I do idly by pinching and tugging them. She cries out, though when I lean in towards her she shuts up quickly and resorts to whimpering and sobbing to herself silently. Stupid fucking bitch. Moving up on the bed, I straddle August lazily, steak knife playing along her throat and between her breasts and I threaten to cut her nipples off, tell her I’m going to eat them and I actually do lean down to bite them hard enough to make them bleed. Had I bit them any harder I’d have probably bitten them clean off and the thought makes me thrust against her stomach. The stupid bitch begs me not to kill her. Begs me to let her go and promises not to tell anybody but I’m actually kind of hungry for once and I’m not an idiot. After thrusting against her stomach for another few minutes and bringing myself near orgasm another time, I step off of her and move into the living room. I’m in no rush, and by this time I’m starting to get bored of her anyway. 

The Christmas tree in the corner in which Jean insisted I buy catches my attention and I move towards the large windows at the other side of the room, reaching out next to me to grab a red and white striped candy cane from a branch. I consider leaving September tied up in bed for later, but as I unwrap the candy my mouth begins to salivate and I turn towards the bedroom again. I lick the candy but it turns out I’m completely uninterested so I bring myself to the bedroom and smile charmingly at her, show her the candy and offer her a lick. She spits at me and the red stained saliva nearly lands on my arm so I slap her hard across the face and stick the candy in her cunt. I don’t remember what I’ve done with the steak knife so I grab for the switch blade on my dresser next to the bed instead, wave it in her face before swinging a leg over her to straddle her hips. 

“Merry Christmas, October.” 

It sounds much better in my head, but at least it came out with a sincere tone of voice. Shoving the switch blade into her stomach, I rip across her abdomen, moaning out loud as rich, thick blood pours out of the wound and onto my cock and balls and thighs and it takes everything in me not to fuck the new opening because first I want to relish the look of horror on her face. She gags, gasps for air, chokes on her own blood and coughs wetly and I toss the blade behind me in order to shove my hands inside her stomach. Leaning back to get a better look I begin pulling her intestines out, grinning wolfishly as it slops out on my lap and I can’t stop it from happening now. I come hard on her stomach, the action making me near double over with pleasure as I rock my hips and ride out the orgasm with throaty moaning that drowns out her garbled keening. Only when her screams die down do I finally open my eyes and assess the situation. I swipe a red coated hand across her stomach, licking the blood and ejaculate from my fingers with a giddy hum before wiggling off her with a new sense of… dread. Anxiety rolls in my stomach suddenly and sweat beads my brow as I slump against the floor, feeling the bed shift behind me with the BLONDE’s last throes of life. I manage to ward off the nausea somehow and it’s come to my attention that the apartment is too quiet, the VCR having run through the tape already. I reach behind me, finger at the puddle of blood on the bed before grabbing the candy cane out of November’s vagina and popping it in my mouth. 

Pushing myself to stand I walk into the living room, cock still hard but I don’t have the heart to masturbate any more so I simply sit and stare at the blue screen on the television. It talks to me, a mechanical and iron tasting voice resonates in my mind as red lettering drips on the screen slowly REWIND ME. I reach for the remote, lean back against the sofa and bite a chunk off the candy cane and as I crunch it and turn the VCR back to cable a bubble of anger shoots through me at the Christmas movie playing— for the ninth time since Christmas Eve and it pisses me off because it’s not Christmas anymore. 

It’s the end of December.


End file.
